


Small Comforts

by BonkKnockers



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Drinking, F/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Space Stations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonkKnockers/pseuds/BonkKnockers
Summary: Amos Burton has a penchant for violence. A skill that comes in handy when a woman in trouble crosses his path. However, she unlocks something else in him, something he's tried to keep hidden for a long time. A wild night of passion leaves him craving more, but a happily-ever-after with her isn't in the cards for a man like him.





	Small Comforts

Amos Burton sat at the long glass bar in one of the quieter nightclubs on Tycho Station, swirling the last of his drink and trying to decide if he wanted another. It would be his fifth round—or was it sixth? Either way, it didn’t matter, this Earth whiskey tasted a damn sight better than the lighter fluid he was used to, and he had nowhere else to be. It was an indulgence that he could afford at the moment, and right now he was taking full advantage of all of the luxuries he could get. 

He’d already treated himself and his crewmate Naomi Nagata to a real steak dinner—well, not  a  _ real  _ steak, it was vat-grown—but, it was still better than a grilled soy-loaf, pressed and seasoned like a steak. He’d also upgraded his shore leave entertainment, for the past few months it had been all high-class hookers for him, women that he knew were well kept and you didn’t have to worry about catching anything from. 

But this luxurious vacation was almost over. Holden had apparently pissed off Fred Johnson and gone and gotten them all fired. No more exclusive contracts to run down OPA pirates, no more twenty-five percent cut of a pretty sweet deal. After the Ganymede incident, everything had gotten messy again, even Amos could see it. Naomi and Jim were arguing constantly and that poor scientist was terrified for his missing daughter. Earlier that evening they’d sent out a message to try to help Prax, get people to send him some funding, but who knew what would come of that. 

His gut told him that something big was on the horizon and that this might be his last chance to sip real bourbon in a quiet bar while someone played jazz or some shit on the piano in the corner. He’d survived through violent upheaval before, but you never knew when your time was up. 

Amos made up his mind and flagged down the bartender.  
“Another.”  
The man filled his glass with the dark amber liquid. 

“You sure?” The bartender asked curiously, more as if to say, ‘You sure you can afford this?’ than ‘Aren’t you about to fall over drunk?’

The man didn’t need to know the answer to either question.

The sounds of an argument broke through the soft music and calm ambient chatter, pulling his attention down the narrow passageway leading to the main station corridor.

“Mi said, take your hand off mi!  Pashang fong!” said an angry woman with a thick Belter patois. Amos could also sense the high note of fear in her voice. His muscles tensed. He had a thing about women in trouble.

She pushed through the doors and stopped, her eyes searching around frantically for any kind of help.   
The bartender walked towards her, holding his hand up, about to wave her away. Amos saw that three men stood behind her, waiting for her to come back out.

“Hey, buddy, she’s with me,” Amos called to the man. 

The bartender turned back to him, taking in the expensive alcohol and his worn jumpsuit and shrugged. Amos smiled at the man's confusion. He was fully aware that the two parts of the equation didn’t add up. With his short, light brown hair and scruff covering his face, dirty overalls, sleeves rolled up over his muscular arms, Amos didn’t look like the kind of man who had a discernible taste in alcohols. But, as long as he kept shelling out for the good stuff the man was unlikely to throw him out.   
The woman took the hint and quickly made her way to the seat next to him.  
“Hey, honey, sorry I’m late,” she said, all trace of accent gone, which surprised him—a rare occurrence.

She was smaller than she had first appeared at the door, or, maybe it was that she had carried herself back there with the confidence of a Martian cage fighter. As she sat next to him, however, he realized that the top of her head stopped just below his shoulder, although her hair went much taller than that, pulled up high on her head in a messy bun of bright copper and ice gold curls. Her pale, pink cheeks were flushed with color and a sheen of nervous sweat sparkled across her forehead. 

“No problem, I would have ordered you a drink, but I couldn’t remember what your favorite is,” he said.   
She eyed his glass. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she told the bartender who was still glaring at her.

Amos gave the man a short nod and finally, after pouring her a double, the man left.   
“Thank you, so much,” she murmured. 

Amos glanced back down the hallway, but the men outside were gone.

“You owe somebody somethin’?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she mumbled into her drink before nearly spitting it out. 

“Holy shit, is this the real deal?”

“You don’t like it?” 

“No, no,” she said with an almost giddy grin, “it’s just not what I was expecting.”

She took another sip and this time smiled appreciatively. He caught himself staring at her wide, full lips, the same shade as the pink hydroponically grown flowers sitting in a vase down the bar.  

“I wasn’t old enough to drink yet before I left,” she said, taking for granted that he knew where she was from. 

Her small, compact frame screamed that she was from Earth, like him. Belter’s were all long and lean, born without gravity weighing them down. Out here, even he was on the shorter side, proof positive that he wasn’t truly a Belter and never would be. 

“So,” she said as she studied him, “you a big-wig or something? Because you don’t exactly look like one.”

He liked her frankness.

“Nah. Just had a run of good luck lately.”

Her fingertips danced around the rim of her glass, drawing his eyes to her short, clean nails painted with a light purple sparkle. 

“How long you been out here?” she asked. 

Amos wasn’t the kind of man to answer questions about himself. There were things no one should know about him, things that he’d tried to forget. 

“A while,” he replied. 

His terse answer didn’t phase her.  
“I’m Sadie Mckendrick by the way,” she said. 

Amos thought for a moment, if she was the kind of person who paid attention to broadcasts then it was possible that she’d recognize his name. Did he care if she did? He didn't particularly want to spend the night with her fangirling all over him. It had happened before. Women begging him to tell them personally about what happened to the  _ Cant _ , or what James Holden was like in real life.

“Name’s Timmy,” he said suddenly, without thinking, startling himself. He hadn’t even thought about that name for a very long time. 

Sadie laughed softly. “You don’t look like a Timmy.”

“What’s a Timmy look like?” he asked. 

She searched around the bar for a suitable victim before settling on a group of men in the corner who were having a heated discussion about astrophysics.   
“That one there, talking, with the glasses,” she said nodding in his direction, “he looks like a Timmy.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. 

“You look more like a… Hannibal. No! I know, Rex!” she announced triumphantly. 

A laugh escaped him. 

“Those are terrible names,” he said as he chuckled. 

She shrugged and took another drink from her glass.

He swayed in his seat ever-so-slightly, not enough for her to notice, but it caught him off guard. Had he finally hit his limit, or, and this was a strange thought, was it her throwing him off balance?

Her black shirt tightly hugged her body, revealing the generous curve of her breasts. An image of what he wanted to do to them flashed across his vision. His throat tightened a bit, causing him to swallow hard. Amos’ gaze drifted lower to the barstool she perched on. Dark gray work pants pulled tight over her generous hips and backside. She certainly wasn’t dressed for partying which put her in a different category than every other woman he’d slept with in the past decade.

“So if you’re not going to tell me anything about yourself, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself, okay?” she announced and his eyes snapped back to her face. He was losing focus, she was talking again and he realized he’d better try to concentrate. 

“We moved around a lot when I was little. I have very vague memories of living in the desert and near the ocean, but I can’t remember exactly where we were.”  
He had very distinct memories of living near the ocean, but she didn’t need to know about Baltimore, or the shithole he’d escaped, or what he’d had to do to get here.

“My parents were government contractors,” she continued, “and when my dad got assigned to Luna we sold everything and moved on up.”

“What happened to your parents?” he asked. He’d never had any himself. 

“My dad got sick and died. I didn’t get along very well with my mom. Stupid teenager stuff, y’know? She wanted to go back to Earth after he was gone, but I’d just gotten accepted to an apprenticeship at an engineering lab and I didn’t want to leave my friends,” she trailed off, not bothering to finish the thought. 

“Do you talk now?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. She remarried and then eventually stopped sending me messages. I haven’t heard from her in a couple of years. I didn’t even tell her that I’d gotten hired on Tycho.”

Amos fought the urge to wrap his arms around her and offer her comfort. He'd never thought to hug another person before, but for a brief moment, she looked so heartbroken that it almost physically hurt him. But the moment passed with another sip of whiskey and she plastered a lovely—and he could now see stoic—smile across her face.

“So,” he said, “how does an Earth girl learn how to speak such fluent Belter?” 

Sadie winked at him. “Well, I’m not going to tell you  _ everything _ about myself.”

That made him laugh and he downed the last of what was in his glass, and she finished too. 

“I think they’re probably gone now,” she said, studying the entryway. She was trying to look nonchalant but he could tell by the way she held her shoulders that she was still nervous. 

“Thanks for the drink.”

Amos paid the bartender, smiling to himself at the total on his bill. You could outfit a small freighter for a month with what he’d just drank. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he offered. He’d be more than happy to crush the windpipe of anyone who so much as looked at Sadie wrong. There was something about her, something worth protecting. 

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she replied with a grin, but she waited for him anyway. 

The coast was clear outside the bar until they were about a hundred meters away and turned the corner. 

“Where tu think you gon go, girl?” The man in front asked. He was a Belter, tall and bone thin. Tattoos covered his arms and face. A mean, red scar from a burn wrapped over his bare shoulder.   
Sadie took a step back towards Amos. He planted his feet and rested his hand protectively on her shoulder.   
“Mi gonya go fo imbobo mi,” she said. 

“Tu not gon go home,” he said, taking a step forward. Amos felt Sadie shrink back against his hand even more. 

Amos studied the men calmly.   
“Keting to ando vedi?” The leader asked. _What are you looking at?_

“Nothing kopeng, just lookin’ to pass,” he replied.   
“Kopeng?” The man spat on the floor in front of him. “Mi not your friend, paxoníseki.”  
Short Inner Scum the man had called him. Off-duty Tycho employees were starting to give the group a wide berth. Eyeing them warily. Maybe someone had already contacted security.  
Amos began to visualize his plan of attack. Maybe he could get two down before the others overtook him, but what would happen to Sadie then. He didn’t know why they wanted her, but the idea of her battered and beaten, or worse, made his blood thunder through his veins.   
Around them, a loud bell chimed. Shift change on Tycho Station. Within seconds the corridor was flooded with workers, who, unaware of the standoff, began bumping into them.   
A young man pushed past the lead Belter and the man turned.   
“Oye, ówala! Watch where you go!”

Amos welcomed the distraction and grabbed her arm swiftly. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he whispered into her ear. 

They turned away and went with the flow of workers before her attacker was even done berating the poor asshole.  
She pulled him along with her on a circuitous route through the station, he didn’t know where she was taking him, but by the time they reached one of the residential levels he had a pretty good idea. 

After the third time she stopped to check behind them, he smiled at her with reassurance.   
“Don’t worry, they’re not following us.”  
She looked up at him. “Are you sure?”  
“Yep. I’ve had a bit of experience with this sort of thing.”  
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you a criminal too? Did I just leap out of the frying pan and into the fire?”  
_Yes._  
“Nah,” he replied. “I’m just a mechanic.”

“A mechanic that can afford real Earth whiskey…”

Her gray-blue eyes stared up into his. They reminded him of the ice that the _Cant_ used to haul to Ceres. He wanted nothing more than to calm the anxiety they held.   
“I won’t burn you,” he murmured. His hand already slipping behind her neck and pulling her closer for a tentative kiss. 

She tasted like sweet, spicy bourbon and strawberry-scented lipstick. Her lips were lush and welcoming. So welcoming that he nearly pushed her up against the wall right there in the empty hallway. But she pulled away from him before he could initiate that particular fantasy. 

“My place is right down this way,” she whispered against his mouth. 

“Lead the way,” he replied.

Her rooms weren’t as large as the ones they’d gotten when Fred Johnson had employed them, but they were bigger than he’d expected. The fact that she had a bedroom  _ and  _ a living room was pretty impressive. 

“What do you do again?” he asked.  
“I used to be a department head of one of the engineering teams working on the _Nauvoo_ project. Now that it’s gone we’re waiting to be assigned a new contract.”  
Amos felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want her to know that he’d been one of the people that had helped send her hard work careening towards Eros. 

She didn’t seem to notice his quick scowl though.

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered, pulling her own shirt up over her head before throwing it across the room. 

There was something to be said for wearing a jumpsuit all the time. With one long zip, he stood before her in nothing but a dark gray tank top and his boxer-briefs, with plenty of time left over to watch her shimmy out of her work pants. 

Her body pulled him to her, like a mag-boot clamping down on a steel flight deck.

They began where they’d left off down the hall. Already comfortable with each other, already wanting and craving. Her lips met not only his mouth, but also his chin, his cheeks, and the rough surface of his unshaven neck. She kissed him everywhere, like an eager puppy, and Amos relished it. She wanted him.  _ Him _ . She wasn’t being paid to. It was his body, and his mind, and his soul that she wanted—and he wanted hers. Sadie’s hands tugged at the neck of his tank top, and in one smooth motion that was on the floor too. Her mouth soon drifted lower, the tip of her tongue trailing over his collarbone to find his hard nipples, and flick at them playfully. 

His cock, already half-hard, throbbed fully to attention. He wanted her to know, wanted her to feel what she did to him. His hands found her hips without looking and pulled her into him. Pelvis against pelvis, hard against soft, dry ready to get very, very wet. 

Amos spun her around roughly—distantly he worried too roughly—but she didn’t seem to mind and he needed her now. He needed to bury his cock deep inside her, to hear her scream as she came.

“You want me to wrap it up?” he asked against the back of her neck. They both knew what he meant. Pregnancies were rare on places like Tycho. Not only was it not allowed, but it was also unwise. Dangerous for both the woman and the baby. Most women were always on contraceptives, and most men for that matter, as well. 

“You been sticking your dick anywhere dirty?” she asked with a light laugh. 

“Not lately,” he replied. 

If she wanted, he was more that happy to wear a condom. Some people just liked them. He didn’t much care one way or the other, and besides, he always kept a couple stashed in one of the inner pockets of his overalls. You never knew when someone would let you fuck ‘em.

“You aren’t going to give me an incurable strain of syphilis are you?” 

Her hands were already stretched behind her, stroking his cock, pulling the smooth skin gently over the iron-hard core. After Ganymede, Naomi had run him through the medical scanner. He’d come up clean.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then go ahead and fuck my brains out.”

Their first time was right there on the couch. He bent her over the armrest, sliding into her as if they were made for each other. Two interlocking mechanisms fitting together to make the engine burn hot. He thrust in and out of her with the smooth efficiency of a man who had done this a hundred times over, but the concentration on his face betrayed his intentions. She wasn’t just another easy fuck. He wanted this to mean something to her also. He didn’t want to come quickly like a green youth, he wanted to feel her muscles clamp down tightly around his dick.

She moaned and cried out, tossing her head back and forth as if she were in the throes of demon possession. Her hair came undone and those pretty curls fell down over her shoulders. Her pussy flooded, but no spasms or trembling came. 

“Cum in me,” she demanded. 

His brow furrowed. 

“I’m no gentleman,” he said, “but I don’t mind waiting for you to finish first.”

She laughed.

“Well, thanks for the consideration but I know my body and I’ll show you what gets me off later,” she replied between breathless gasps. 

His hips slapped loudly against her plump ass, and since her pleasure had been the only thing holding him back, as soon as she gave him permission a switch flipped in his brain and he came in an instant with a bear-like groan.

They caught their breaths together until a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead down onto her back and only then did he slip out of her. 

With a little wiggle, Sadie stood up and tip-toed cheerfully to the bathroom. He heard her piss and turn the shower on. 

“Quick! Come get in here with me,” she called. He didn’t have to be told twice.

Steaming water poured from the showerhead on to her pale body, making her skin turn red where the hot water hit. Amos came up behind her and slid his hands around her ribs to cup her full breasts, her nipples were hard pearls that he pinched lightly. At some point, soap entered the mix and with sudsy hands he cleaned her, sweeping his hands over the length of her. Massaging her muscles and brushing his fingertips over the most sensitive parts of her until, in the end, he found his long middle finger buried knuckle deep inside of her. 

“I think I’m ready to show you what I like,” she murmured against his chest. He almost didn’t hear her over the hiss of the nozzle, except that he also felt her lips move against his chest. 

“Lead the way,” he replied eagerly. 

Swinging a towel around her shoulders and tossing one to him, Sadie guided him into the bedroom. It was small, but tidy, no knick-knacks, nothing frivolous. In fact, on top of her desk, he spied a halfway disassembled actuator which made him smile. The plush blanket that covered her bed was the only personal touch, it was covered in small purple flowers that he thought were maybe lavender, and then he realized that was what she smelled like. That delicate, soothing floral scent filled his nostrils and sent his blood racing. He’d had very few comforts in life. Never much needed them. It was a fact of life that living was a hard, difficult struggle. He’d learned to roll with punches rather than to push back. Fighting the quicksand just made you sink faster. 

But here… here was comfort, here was a warm bed and a warm body and he just wanted to lose himself. Lose himself in her. 

Now it was her turn. Her hands explored his abdomen. Tracing the outlines of his tattoos. Giggling softly at the portrait he’d gotten put on the left side of his chest. He’d only ever told Naomi who the woman was. Sadie frowned over the gruesome white scar on his right side that messed up his belly button. He let her take her time until he couldn’t.

“Yes,” she whispered as he lifted her up into his arms. Her legs slipped around his waist and she locked her feet together. His fingers squeezed her ass as she rubbed herself against his cock. 

“Oh, Jesus-Fucking-Christ yes.”

Amos laid her down on the edge of the bed before falling to his knees. Her legs spread wide and her back arched upward, inviting him in with a desperate whimper. The scent of her arousal wafted up to him and nearly made him cum again. It had been a while since he’d gone down on a woman and he was looking forward to digging into her pussy like a starved man devouring a bowl of ramen. 

She tasted salty and rich. Her cunt as slick as engine lubricant. Her clit, hidden away at the apex of those slippery folds was a hard nub that he flicked and teased, causing her thighs to tremble around his head. 

“I guess I didn’t need to show you,” she moaned, her own fingers rolling her nipples around in small circles. 

He lapped at her, dragging his tongue from clit to soft entrance and back up again, lazily taking his time as she squirmed.

No, she didn’t need to show him. Amos knew what she wanted. What she needed. He slid a callused finger into her as he sucked and she bucked against him. He twisted his hand around until he found just the right spot and she stopped him. 

“Right there! Yes,” she whispered under her breath. “Just like that. Keep… keep doing that.” 

Lick, flex, suck, flex, lick, flex, suck… continuously until her wetness threatened to drip down his arm. Her fingers clawed into the blanket and pulled it up tight as her breathing came faster and faster.   
“Oh god… Timmy!” she cried as she came. He tensed at the name on her lips and wished that he had told her his real name. Not that Amos was his real name, but it felt more real to him than Timmy ever had. Her muscles spasmed around his hand, clenching onto him tight, quivering with release. 

In the aftermath she breathed hard and heavy and her flesh glistened with sweat. 

“That was fucking fantastic,” she purred. 

He flexed his hand and fell onto the bed beside her. 

She gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. 

“You don’t say much, do you?”

Nobody had ever needed  _ that _ particular skill from him. 

He shrugged. “Don’t have that much to say.”

For a moment she looked worried, or maybe hurt, but he quickly leaned in to kiss her, alleviating her anxiety. 

“Why waste time with talking when there are so many better things to do,” he said matter-of-factly, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the smell of her. 

Sadie grinned. 

“I could go again,” she said. 

Amos was on her again in an instant, but this time they fucked slowly. Taking their time as they pleasured each other's bodies. First, he was on top and then she on top of him. He loved watching her tits bounce as she rode him like a cowgirl, later she seemed to get extra loud when he held her arms tightly above her head so that she couldn’t move. When he finally came it nearly made him blind. His world exploded in a white-hot burst of stars and the rush of blood thundered in his ears. He collapsed on top of her and nearly fell asleep still inside of her, except she had to scoot out from under him to go use the bathroom again. 

He dozed off for a moment while she was gone only to be woken up again when she slipped back under the blankets and burrowed into the warm cocoon of his arms. He held her tight as she fell asleep. Briefly wondering if he should leave now without a fuss, but her bed and her body kept him weighed down, like a deep gravity well. He slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, more at peace than he’d ever felt before. 

Hours later, she stirred in his arms and he awoke. A lifetime of high-adrenaline situations had trained him to brush sleep off in a flash. 

She was awake too, he realized. Laying against him, staring up at the ceiling. 

“How much do you owe those men?” he asked quietly. “Are they OPA? Loca Greiga?”  
“It wasn’t me that owed them. This woman I know. One of my workers. She’s from Ceres. Her brother got in trouble there, and then they came after her, and then I made it my business. So now it’s all on me, I guess,” she said.   
“How much?” he asked again.   
Sadie turned her head to look at him.   
“Three thousand New Yen.”

He got out of bed and went into the living room to get his hand terminal. With a quick tap of his finger he had the money pulled up and ready to transfer to her. The  _ Rocinante _ was about to go back out into the big, black empty. What else was he going to do with his share?

She sat up, holding the blanket over her breasts. 

“What are you doing?”  
“I’ll give you the money,” he said. 

“What? No! I don’t want your money. That’s not what this was about,” she said. Her lively blonde eyebrows drew into a sharp angry V. 

“I told you,” he said, “the crew of my ship got lucky lately. I’ve got money to spare.”  
“I didn’t sleep with you for money,” she insisted. “I didn’t expect… You know that’s not… I’m not one of those…” her voice trailed off as she looked up at him with those wide blue eyes. 

Amos sat down next to her. 

“I was hoping you’d let me give it to you. Probably soon I’m not going to have much need for it anymore, but, if you’d rather, consider it a loan,” he urged. 

“A loan?”

“Pay me back the next time you see me.”

She seemed to consider it for a few moments. 

He went back into the living room, pissed with the door open and then quickly dressed.

When he returned to the bedroom, she’d taken her own hand terminal from her desk and accepted the transfer. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Look at it this way,” he said, “you can

pay me back on your own time and I won’t come looking to throw you out an airlock.”

His attempt at humor did little to appease her horror. 

He was about to walk out of her rooms without a backward glance, that’s what he would have done normally, but something inside told him not to end it this way. 

Amos leaned forward and planted a hungry kiss on her lips. Wiping away the pain and terror. Hopefully leaving her with one last good memory of him. He doubted he’d ever see her again. He wanted to, but lord knew that peaceful happiness wasn’t generally in the mix for Amos Burton. 

“When will I see you again?” she asked. 

_ Never. _

“Our next mission shouldn’t take too long,” he lied. “A few months, probably.”

She smiled up at him.

“Alright. I promise I’ll have your money for you by then.”

He smiled down at her. 

“No rush,” he said. “Goodbye, Sadie.” 

“Bye, Tim,” she answered as he turned to leave. Her soft, gentle smile an image that he would try to hold on to.

Back on the  _ Rocinante _ , Alex was running diagnostics on systems, getting her ready to go out again. 

“Boy howdy, you been gone awhile,” the pilot said in his odd Martian drawl. 

“I was busy,” Amos replied. 

“Well, ya missed all the hubbub. Y’know that message Cap sent out? The replies have been pouring in. A shit-ton of money too. We’ll definitely be able to help Dr. Meng look for his little girl. ”

A snort escaped Amos. Looked like he’d been right. Change, big change, was on the horizon. 

“I’ll head back to the station,” he said, “and let the Doc know. I need a shower bad too.”

Alex sniffed the air.

“Jesus man, you reek like sex.”

Amos smiled. He did, but he also smelled like lust, and desire, and Sadie’s sweet womanly scent, and the soothing floral soap she used. 

He’d be sad to wash it off. 

Alex waved him away. 

“Go on. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

Amos headed back out onto the station, but before he made it back to their quarters his stomach grumbled loudly. Maybe he should bring Prax some breakfast, he thought. Come to think of it, steak and eggs sounded mighty fine and he’d worked up an appetite. 

 


End file.
